The other day, in the late afternoon, Little One and I listened to the complete piano sonatas by Mozart at top volume.

The day had been chaotic, and I hoped that the soothing tones and rhythms would quell the thirtieth (or was it fiftieth?) toddler-tantrum of the day.

So, we listened, we took deep breaths and we read a story.

We floated on the music for half an hour, and then started the quiet ritual of bath, dinner and bed.

It was the simple act of letting go, just for a moment, that changed the tenor of the day.

The afternoon before had sat down with my journal, determined to plan my life "once and for all." I turned to the next blank page and drew bullet points down the left-hand side. This was to be my "list to end all lists." I was finally going to feel like I was leading my life, instead of it leading me.

I sipped my decaf.

I stared at the blank page.

I wrote two, maybe three ideas down.

And then I realized something important.

I write the same lists, day after day, week after week. I write them because I think they're going to help me feel more in control and more accomplished. But they don't: so I repeat the process over and over.

But... lists are flat.

There are linear.

They don't, in fact they

can't

, reflect the messy, three-dimensional complexities of life. So, I write list after list in an attempt to control the chaos, but instead they make me feel more frenzied and frustrated.

I have decided that this summer we are going to follow rhythms instead of lists. We are going to float with the ebb and flow of the day. We are going to sleep when we're tired, drink when we're thirsty, eat when we're hungry, and dance when we're happy. We will run in the rain and bask in the sunshine.

All those bullet points on my lists were like a sack of bricks slung over my shoulder. It is liberating to let them go.

I will listen to beautiful music and let go. I will daydream and let go. I will draw and write and let go. The folding and scrubbing will happen (as they always do), but I won't spend time dwelling about them, or writing detailed schedules for them.

I am finding, when I let go, even cleaning can become a kind of meditation.